


Car Accident Blues

by 0de



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dave gets hit by a car AU, Fluff, Hospital, Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 14:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18625126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0de/pseuds/0de
Summary: Dave Strider is good at looking fly, but he sure isn't good at not getting run over!





	Car Accident Blues

Wearing sunglasses in the dark has it’s upsides and it’s downsides.

The upsides are, of course, that you look dope as all fuck.

The downsides are, unfortunately, numerous. The one that first comes to your mind is that you can’t really see shit.

Shit includes cars.

But you were never one to miss out on a bet because it was on a losing chance, and if you must risk your life just for some cool-guy points, then so be it.

Of course, you very much doubt that the asshole who hit you in his fucking Honda shares this worldview of yours.

You’re getting ahead of yourself though. Before anything else, your name is DAVE and you were absolutely in the right in this situation. You were crossing the street at a designated point, and the light was very much green for you and red for above-mentioned asshole. Granted, your vision was impaired, but still.

Being in the right doesn’t, however, make your bones any less fucked, and it doesn’t make the hospital bed you’re in any less real. The best to do in this situation is probably to go ahead and take a nap.  
  
  
  
  
  


Alright, so it was dark when you fell asleep, and it’s also dark now. Either two hours have passed, or a full day-night cycle. You feel way too rested for a two hour nap, so you did sleep thru an entire day. This fact would bother you if you didn’t know you were paying a fucking fortune to use this bed, and god damn if you were gonna get your use out of it. You check your phone, which contains several missed texts and a dozen calls from your friends.

Sending a mass text to everyone close to you that says “just got hit by a car fellas” seems to get quite a reaction. You’ll respond to all of those later, you guess. You’ve got a bad case of “fuck phone brightness” and typing out texts and calling everyone back probably won’t help that too much.

You turn around to face opposite to the window, as to avoid reminding yourself that it’s fucking dark out and you’re not partying.

The hospital room is only lit by one small little bedside light, and it makes everything significantly creepier. Especially the hunched over, shadowy figure sitting in that chair next to your bed. If that can be made creepier by absolutely anything, that is.

You reach out to touch the creature to make sure you’re not seeing ghosts.

Fuck. It’s wearing knee-ripped jeans.

It’s a cool ghost.

The monster springs awake from your touch and reveals itself as… KARKAT!

You yell out his name like he just went into you dry. If anyone in the rooms next to yours was asleep, they sure as shit aren’t now.

“HEY ASSHOLE! WHO THE FUCK SENDS THAT KIND OF TEXT?! DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING CLUE HOW MUCH TROUBLE IT WAS TO DRIVE ALL THE WAY OUT HERE TO CHECK IF YOU HAD A FUCKING PULSE?”

God, he’s so fucking loud. You can tell he’s doing his best to whisper, but it just comes across as airy yelling.

“Well you didn’t have to drive out here if you didn’t feel like it.

If I was in a good enough position to text, I’d say I’m at least a bit alive.”

You know he’s bluffing, and there is nothing more entertaining than calling his bluffs and watching him try to wriggle his way out of it all.

“I DON’T KNOW! MAYBE THAT WAS YOUR FUCKING… AUTOMATIC MESSAGE!

LIKE ‘in case of my death, text everyone ‘I’m fucking dead boys!’”

The specificity of the text you sent doesn’t seem to matter here, but you really can’t be arsed to listen to any more screaming, as your head hurts like all fucking hell from being, you know, hit by a car.

“I know this is like asking a river to stop flowing, but can you please keep your fucking voice down?”

“YEAH, SORRY.”

Still loud as shit. You can hear that he’s trying though, so you’ll give him this one.

“How long have you been here anyways? And what time is it even?”

“WELL, IT’S AROUND 8PM, AND I’VE BEEN HERE SINCE VISITING HOURS OPENED, SO I GUESS… SIX HOURS?”

Six hours seems like a long fucking time to just sit in a chair.

“Did you eat anything? Or like, have a drink?”

“I GUESS NOT?”

Shit.

“I’m sorry man you really shouldn’t have to do this for me. You can go home I won’t mind it’s alright, just go grab something to eat please.”

“YOU REALLY THINK I WOULD BE SITTING HERE IF I DIDN’T WANT TO?

THE MOMENT I GET HUNGRY IS THE MOMENT I BUST OUT OF THAT DOOR AND HEAD ON TO THE LOCAL WENDY’S FOR A BLOCK OF MEAT.”

You can tell this is a bluff as well. It does make you feel better though. The fact that he would lie in an attempt to make you feel less awful about the fact that your best friend is starving his ass off just so you don’t have to sit alone in a hospital.

“I TEXTED EVERYONE THAT YOU’RE OKAY JUST NOW. SO DON’T WORRY ABOUT THAT EITHER”

Fucking hell.

“Thanks for all of this, man. I owe you so much.”

“OH FUCK OFF, DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE. YOU KNOW DAMN WELL YOU WOULD DO THE SAME SHIT FOR ME”

Yeah, you guess he’s right.

“YOU LOOK WRECKED AS FUCK DUDE.”

“Yeah? You should see the other guy.

The other guy being a fucking Honda Civic.”

“IF YOU DIED FROM A HONDA CIVIC IMPACT, I THINK GOD WOULD’VE SENT YOU BACK TO EARTH WITH AN APOLOGY NOTE.”

You find this funny, but that’s immediately shut down by the fact that laughing with a fractured rib comes with seven dimensions of pain.

“SHIT MAN, SORRY.”

“No that’s alright man, it’s not your fault that your gut-busting humor doesn’t cooperate well with my pre-busted gut.”

“I GUESS.”

You stare into his eyes. They’re wonderfully deep, the brown in them lit only by the small lamp, and only in certain parts. It’s like looking into a leaf patch.

“I BROUGHT YOU SOME STUFF. SO YOU DON’T GET BORED, YOU KNOW.”

He hands you a plastic bag.

Inside it are a dozen blu-ray cases, half of which are for rom-coms that he tells you about all the time and you keep promising to watch and then you forget about them because you’re dumb like that.

The other half are shitty b-movies, most of which have awful covers with the main character, usually an Arnold Schwarzenegger look-alike, jump-kicking or punching towards the camera.

You also find a blu-ray player, which you guess is there just in case the hospital doesn’t have one (which it doesn’t), and several bags of popcorn of different flavors.

“I HOPE AT LEAST SOME OF THIS SHIT IS GOOD. THE ROM-COMS ARE A SURE HIT IF YOU ASK ME, BUT THE ACTION FUCKERY IS EITHER SO BAD IT’S GOOD, OR JUST PLAIN OLD BAD.”

You can see that he wants you to watch his movies, and that all of the other stuff is just filler to make that less obvious.

“Yeah, it all seems fantastic. I don’t think I can actually get up to put attach the player or play the discs, and calling in a nurse to play me ‘KUNG-FU KING 7: CHRISTMAS KICKING’ would leave me with anything but regrets.

So you wanna join in on this fun?”

“OH FUCK SURE I GUESS.

YEAH THAT SOUNDS FUN.”

“But for fucks sake, go eat something first”

“I WILL!”

“And bring me something, I’m fucking starving!”

“SHIT OF COURSE, WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

“You know what?

Surprise me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for giving this a read! It really isn't much, but all comments, kudos, and criticism is accepted!  
> Love you!


End file.
